When Passing By Strangers
by meltedpoo
Summary: Love is a play. We are lovers in a crowd and strangers in the desert.


**Title: **When Passing By Strangers

**Summary: **Love is a play. We are lovers in a crowd and strangers in the desert.

**Disclaimer: ** Hijikata Toushirou is my baby. I ship him with me. And I do not own Gintama.

**A/N: **Please tell me if the PoT fandom has revived because I am going to kill myself for sheer feels.

AU; in a world not as crazy as Gintama.

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There would come a time in a person's life when a lover, a friend, a comrade would be nothing more than a ghost in the chest of their memories. A sudden spark would light up and they would love and care and, just as suddenly, lose everything. It was not that they had ceased to feel. It was not even that they were tired. It was that something would shift; the shadow of a small doubt, and it would allow itself to grow until compassion would be overshadowed by the feeling of not knowing.

There would be a short pause of recognition. Eyes strayed towards each other's faces, drinking in the details, trying to etch inside their memories the effects of time and grief and the little bouts of happiness and nature on the other. Finally, they felt that the pause had been long enough. Even the most tragic of plays must end; it does not do good to dwell on the prospects of a sixth act. Yes, to move on would be an escape they both needed.

ooo

Had Hijikata any idea of what was to come, he would have forgiven. He would surely have talked and pretended the topic was never hanging on their heads. But Hijikata had no idea. He could not ignore the shadow of the inevitable. And even if he could, can he ignore Okita's growing coldness?

No, that's not the real question. In fact, was there even a question? Everything is already predestined. All the forgiveness and pretense that things were perfectly okay will not change what was about to come. That day in Hijikata's bedroom where the choice was made would still have happened. Destiny already chose its road. Should he be hurt any less by this? In the knowledge that he could not have changed anything?

"Hijikata?"

"Hm?"

"Are you still mad?"

"No."

Was this how it all ended? Or did it go way back?

A silence all too natural to them filled the space where no words could fit. If escape was what they needed, they should have left that stillness untouched. But there was beauty in destruction, a tragic charm that drew the lonely and the broken in. Whether it was curiosity or fascination towards the ruin, or even simple necessity, that compelled him to say the next words, the end was already decided.

"I'm going home."

It was an all too common statement. What changed its meaning was the tone that accompanied it. There was a forced calm infused into it and beneath that was unmistakably contempt. Okita gathered the pieces of clothing thrown haphazardly on the floor of Hijikata's apartment. He was waiting for Hijikata to reply and the latter knew this. But what was he supposed to say? He didn't know what brought this topic on. They were two lumps of flesh seeking warmth in each other's arms when suddenly, Okita went rigid. As if he didn't know who he was holding on to. There was the feeling that Okita saw him as a _stranger. _Hijikata felt that it would have been better if Okita got mad, if Okita resisted reason and refused to compromise. Perhaps he could have reacted with anger and put the blame on someone else other than himself. But Okita was silent and unyielding, like a proud tree in the face of a storm. Lying there in bed, looking at the imaginary stars they both mapped out in their heads, Hijikata's silence made Okita feel that he was wrong. And yet he could not, would not, give up the topic. He was angry for no reason he could fathom. He wanted Hijikata to feel pain. He could not back out now because once the curtains were opened, the play _has_ to start.

When Hijikata didn't reply, Okita spoke again, "It's just that, where are we heading, Hijikata?"

"Do we need to head anywhere? What is wrong with where we are? We are together, isn't that enough?"

"You don't understand! Time is moving, the world is moving, we can't just stay here forever! With you I feel like time stops but…it's not right. It can't be that way forever."

"I'm not stopping you. If you want to move, I'll go with you. I'll be there if you need me. We don't need to-"

"Stop…just stop. I can't understand it myself. All I know is that I have to move on. Sooner or later, we are going to lose everything, anyway, so why not now? I know this doesn't make any sense and maybe I am hurting you but all I know is that this is what I have to do."

Hijikata stared at him. He was hurt and he didn't understand. It is infinitely more painful to feel hurt for something you don't understand than something you have a vague understanding of. Did Okita feel all these while they were together? Was he confused all this time?

"Were you happy?"

"I am."

"Then why?"

"I don't know."

ooo

There are things that the body wants to do, things the emotion craves to satisfy but the better sense won't allow. Such things always pose regret, for when you gain the courage, time has already lost interest. Every moment of indecision is opportunity wasted. Hijikata wanted to call out; Okita to run back and hug the man he so easily let go of. It was a one-time emotion; as soon he left that apartment that day, he regretted everything. But he was too prideful to turn back. Like all plays of tragic nature, things end and the sixth act cannot always be trusted.

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**A/N: **Reading too much Murakami does this to my writing.

Sappy? Confusing? What is this shit? Leave a review.


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